SLICE. The dummy's head fell.
SLASH. Another one, in half.
Damian aggressively kept slashing more dummies while Bruce looked at him with concern.
"Damian?" He called. "Are you okay?"
"My teacher said I should try to make more friends at school," Damian said, pausing. "The other students find me intimidating."
"Which is absurd. I'm delightful." Damian retorted when he just slashed a dummy's head out of frustration and aggression.
"Do you want to try to make friends?" Bruce asked while Damian huffed from his training.
"It would probably help my cover..." Damian jabbed the headless mannequin. "But I... I don't know how..."
"You've done it before." Bruce comforted. "You're friends with Superboy, right?"
"He's different."
"And generally indestructible." Bruce added.
"That too."
"Making friends." Bruce clapped his hands. "I'm sure we can figure this out."
"..."
"...we?"
~Mini Theatre~
The Batcomputer whirred softly, casting an eerie blue glow across the cavernous Batcave. Author, perched on the ergonomic spinning chair, was in peak creative mode, fingers flying across the keyboard. Suddenly, a disgruntled huff shattered the silence. Damian Wayne, the brooding heir to the Wayne fortune, stomped into the Batcave, his tiny brow furrowed in a way that would make even the most hardened villain nervous. With a theatrical sigh, he flung himself dramatically onto the floor.
"Ugh," he grumbled, kicking his booted feet against the cold stone.
Bruce, ever the ever-vigilant Batman, emerged from the shadows. "Master Damian," he rumbled, his voice a low growl. "Report."
Damian shot him a withering glare. "My...social studies instructor," he spat, emphasizing each word as if it were a bitter pill, "has mandated the illogical and frankly, degrading, practice of...acquiring friends."
Author, who had paused mid-sentence with a quirked eyebrow, swiveled her chair around to face the fuming Damian. A stifled snort escaped her lips. Bruce, ever the master of stoicism, managed a small, almost undetectable twitch of his lips.
"Friends, huh?" Author said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Damian scowled. "Indeed. An utterly pointless endeavor that I, demonstrably, do not require."
Bruce cleared his throat, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "Perhaps we can be of assistance, Damian. After all, teamwork is essential, even for Bat-vigilantes."
Damian's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "We?"
Author grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Absolutely! Consider us your...social skills coaches. We'll help you navigate the treacherous waters of...friendship."
Damian stared at them both, his expression a comical mix of disbelief and reluctant hope. The idea of needing help with something as trivial as friendship was clearly abhorrent to him, yet the prospect of his stoic father and the ever-unpredictable Author teaming up to teach him was oddly...intriguing.
"Fine," he mumbled, crossing his arms. "But don't expect any...warm fuzzies."
Bruce and Author exchanged a look, barely stifling their laughter. This was going to be interesting.
Word count: 481
End of Chapter 1